He's Always Had A Thing for Blondes
by chokedupwords
Summary: Eighth grade Rory only cared about two things: getting Lip to graduate middle school on time and keeping her house from being foreclosed. By the summer, she had taken care of both things when two new things dump onto her plate - earthquake-sized, parent-shaped things that can't possibly be fixed. She disappears from the South Side and Lip's life, only to return four years later.
1. Of Moneybags and RAs

**CHAPTER ONE**

 _Take a right, walk one block down, then make a left and walk until you see it._ I glanced down at the directions on the Post-It, turning over the yellow square of paper to examine the makeshift grocery list that my dad had also scribbled down. I crumpled it up and shoved it into my pocket with a small scoff. _As if I didn't know how to get around town. I did live here for the first thirteen years of my life, Dad._ I thought to myself as I glanced up at the bright yellow 'Kash and Go' mini-mart sign. I felt for the bundle of cash in my pocket before pushing the door open and wincing at the obnoxiously loud bell chime. Upon entering, my eyes were drawn to the tall redhead that sat at the register, boredom clear in his slumped posture as he sluggishly completed what looked to be math homework. He glanced up at the sound of the bell and I widened my eyes in shock as I caught a glimpse of his face.

"Ian?"

"Collins?" I paused for a moment, reeling slightly from his use of my childhood nickname.

"It's Rory, now." I barely had time to say the words before he had hopped over the counter and engulfed me into a bear hug. I stumbled back a bit, letting out a slight grunt from almost getting the wind knocked out of me. The last time I saw him, he was a scrawny twelve-year old, following me and my friends around. He had grown, far taller than I had thought he would, and from the feel of his arms, had bulked up.

"Fuck, Ian. You been taking steroids or something?" I felt his body shake with laughter before he pulled away, a lopsided grin overshadowing his face.

"Nah. This is from ROTC." He pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and flexed his arms with an exaggerated groan. Ian struck a pose, and then pressed his lips to his biceps. "The gun show is a-this way." I couldn't do anything to suppress the large bundle of laughter that released from my mouth as I pushed his arms away.

"Don't get cocky, Gallagher. I can probably still kick your ass." I yelled over my shoulder as I began to scour the aisles for the few groceries that my dad had requested. I muttered them under my breath to myself as I walked. Chips, bananas, water, bread, peanut butter. My dad was a simple guy.

"Man, when Lip sees you, he'll shit his pants. How long has it been – two years, three years?" Ian called from his resumed position at the register. I stiffened slightly at the mention of him, and felt a pit in my stomach grow as I anticipated the question that he would ask next.

"Where the hell have you been, anyway?" I fell silent and grabbed the remainder of the groceries before heading back up to the register, plopping them down with a small sigh. "You kind of just… disappeared. Without any explanation." My teeth sunk into my bottom lip and I scrunched up my nose slightly, squirming underneath Ian's inquisitive stare as he rung up my items.

"It's a long story, Ian. Not exactly easy to explain." My voice had dropped notably – both in its cheeriness and volume. I shook my head a bit, not meeting his eyes and not exactly in the mood to dump all of my problems out onto the floor of the mini-mart. He went quiet at my conclusive tone, and we stood in an uneasy silence as we exchanged the cash from my pocket with change from the register.

"Are you going to go see Lip?" He asked me after I had gathered my things in a plastic bag. I took the bags in my hands and looked at him, and even though I smiled, I knew I couldn't do anything to mask the inevitable twinge of sadness that worked its way into my smile.

"It's not really fair of me to just jump out on him like that, you know? I don't really have a place in his life anymore." I recalled when I had returned back to Chicago and visited my dad's house; only to find that my dad had a stack of letters from Lip, circa three years ago when I had left. I hadn't opened them yet, but according to the variations of my name that he had used (it had gone from 'to Collins' to 'read this you fucking piece of shit'), I didn't expect pleasant things.

"Come on, Lip's not one to hold a grudge." Ian tried futilely, and a snort escaped from my mouth before I could do anything to stop it.

"Yeah, right." I shook my head, taking a step towards the door, but Ian quickly hopped over the counter and blocked by path, giving me an uncharacteristically serious look.

"A grudge for two years? Even he can get over that."

"Don't think so." I made a move to sidestep him, but he mimicked my step.

"So you expect me to keep this from him? Act like I didn't just encounter his missing best friend in a convenience store?" He paused for a moment, and his tone grew more urgent. "Let you go without knowing when or if you'll ever be back?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I said with a small huff, refusing to look him in the eyes as I made another move to get past him. This time, his arms grabbed my elbows, keeping me in place and forcing me up at him. His eyes bore back into mine - green and pleading. I felt my chest tighten - an overwhelming feeling of dread - before I relented and gently shook his arms off of me.

"I swear, you Gallaghers will be the death of me." I mumbled under my breath as I fished the Post-It from my pocket, snatched a pen off the counter, and resisted the urge to smack Ian's triumphant smile off of his face. I scribbled down my number on the small space that was left on the piece of paper, circled it, and tucked it between my two fingers. My eyes glanced down at Ian's open palm, and I arched my brows up at him.

"I'm up at Lake Forest, with my aunt. Not supposed to be back in the South Side. If my aunt picks up my phone for some reason, just act like a snobby douchebag from Lake Forest, yeah?"

"My name is Wentworth Moneybags, and I'm looking to take Miss Aurora Collins out on a date." Ian said with a horridly posh accent. He stuck his pinky out and used his now-open palm as an imaginary tea saucer, sipping a cup of air and obnoxiously slurping. He smacked his lips and looked at me with a wicked grin. "Tea's a little too lukewarm for my taste, but it'll do."

I clasped a hand over my mouth to muffle my loud guffaw, but it hardly did anything. I ended up laughing loudly anyway, and I struggled to regain my breath as I glanced down at his outstretched palm.

"After that horrible performance, Wentworth, I don't think that I can give you my number anymore." He stuck out his tongue and snatched the paper from my fingers.

"Too bad, because I'm taking it anyways." Before I knew it, he had scooped me up into another tight hug. This time, I reciprocated it gladly. "Good to have you back around, Collins - I mean, Rory."

TWO YEARS LATER

"Hey, meeting in the floor's common room. RA wants a few words with all of us." A girl with sandy brown hair ducked into my dorm room, and I gave her a small, grateful smile before turning back to put the finishing touches on my side of the room. My roommate, Claire, returned from the bathroom, and together, we headed to the common room. Having arrived late, we joined the outskirts of the gathering of people who were circled around a person, who I assumed was the RA.

"Long story short: just don't be a bunch of fucking idiots and we'll all have a great year. Dismissed." The voice finished, and the people around us began to clamber back to their dorms. Claire and I stayed back for a moment, waiting for the crowd to disperse so that we would actually be able to see what our RA looked like. Once we had caught a glimpse, she decided to head back to the room. I had told her that I would catch up with her later, but in truth, I wasn't able to move or take my eyes off of who was standing in front of me.

"Can I help you?" He had turned around to use the wall to fill out a few forms, and I suppose that he sensed my presence. He put the cap back onto his pen and pushed the forms messily into his jacket pocket before whirling around to face me.

"Lip."


	2. Of Cigarettes and Right Hooks

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Lip." The voice that came out didn't sound like it belonged to me. It was hoarse and shaky, making it sound almost as if I was on the brink of crying. I sounded like a sniveling fool. He always managed to locate the chink in my armor, even now. His eyes were frozen on mine, and I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward into that warm, lazy grin that always seemed to be sprawled across his face. It was the only feature of his that hadn't changed since eighth grade. His watery blue eyes looked tired and worn, his face had finally caught up with the size of his nose, and his hair was long and unruly, as opposed to the buzz cut that I was familiar with. If I had been more naïve, I would have felt comforted by the sight. But, growing up where I had grown up, I knew better than to latch onto that hope. His smile twitched back into nonexistence as quickly as it had come.

"Collins." He said flatly, and his lips parted for a brief moment, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decided against it and snapped his mouth shut. His eyes lingered on me for a few more moments before he turned on his heel and headed down the hall. My feet followed after him involuntarily.

"Can we talk?" This time, my voice was well-practiced and reserved, just as Aunt Eloise had trained it to be. I couldn't recognize the sound this time, either. It couldn't possibly belong to a girl who had been raised on the South Side.

His feet faltered briefly, and I could feel myself breathe out a small sigh of relief that he wasn't completely immune to my presence, but he eventually rediscovered a steady pace as he made a sharp turn down a stairwell. I pushed myself to meet his long strides - when did he get so tall? - until we came to a stop, just beneath a large tree that was several paces away from the building. His hands fumbled with pulling a cigarette from his pocket, and he smoothly brought a lighter up to its end. I noticed how practiced the motion was.

"Can't smoke inside the building, and can't have the RA setting a bad example." He barked out a small chuckle, but it was different from those of his that I used to be familiar with. This one was bitter and biting.

"I didn't know you smoked." I blurted out, and I could already sense regret rising onto my face just a few moments after. He turned to look at me as if I was a trivial fly that was buzzing around his room.

"Haven't given a rat's ass about me for the past four years, why start now?" He hissed, his words dripping with venom. His head raised until his eyes met mine, and he took a long drag from his cigarette. For a second, I could've sworn that I saw his eyes soften before it hardened back into an unreadable mask and he scoffed, the smoke billowing out of his mouth in choppy breaths. "What the fuck do you want, anyway? Because if you think that we're going to hit 'resume' on eighth grade and everything's going to be unicorns shitting rainbows and marshmallows, then you might as well just get the fuck out of my face now."

I took a deep breath, and daringly glanced back at his eyes. Several emotions jumped back at me - hurt, rage, disgust. In the back of my mind, I knew exactly what to do. It came from years of experience - when Lip Gallagher blew up at you like this, the best thing to do was to keep a level-head and carefully maneuver your way out of the situation. It was like defusing a bomb. A human bomb. The last thing you wanted to do was to agitate the matter at hand.

"What do you want?" I echoed the question back to him, ignoring the one that he had posed to me. "An explanation? Me on my knees, begging for forgiveness? Here's a better idea, Gallagher, why don't you just give me a shiner, right here? Sure as hell would be better than hearing your bitch ass whine for another two minutes." My tone grew more heated, and soon enough, I found myself snarling right back at him, my hands curled into fists at my sides.

Okay, wrong approach. But in all fairness, Lip always did bring out that side of me - the smart-mouthed, cursing, tomboy that I had once been, and eventually left behind. It came from thirteen years of living on the South Side. It probably also came from having a dad in and out of jail, and a mom who was forever frozen in a 'rebellious teenager' phase. And it was exactly what Aunt Eloise wanted to rid me of.

"Fuck you." I could tell that I struck a nerve in the way that he rolled his shoulders back and how his fingers twitched at his sides. "Look at yourself. You think you've left the South Side behind? Moved up with your douchey French-named clothes and your Chanel No. 5? I can see right through your little fucking act. Your mother was a slut - a teen mom and heroin addict - and your father is a lazy piece of shit who's probably in jail again. What will that be, Collins? The fourth, fifth time? You're from the South Side and you know it, so don't go and try to act like you're fucking better than me."

"I didn't want this. I didn't fucking ask for this. Any of this." The words poured out, and before I knew it, I had brought my fist against his face, my teeth clenched and my eyes brimming with tears. As kids, we had shared everything about our lives with each other. I knew all about how fucked up his family was, and he knew how fucked up mine was, so we both shared in a silent camaraderie. But for him to do this - I fucking hated him. I hated him for bringing up my parents, I hated him for looking at me like that, and most of all - I hated how he was right. I hated how, even after all of these years, he could see right through me.

After my fist had made contact with his face, he stumbled back, profanities and a bit of blood spilling out from his mouth. My hand ached, but I didn't dare show a sign of weakness. He fixed his gaze back on me, and it was a cold, steely blue - teeming with loathing. But this time, I didn't care.

"Next time, I won't hold back." Armor reconstructed and back up, my voice came out smooth - almost as if I had just finished an important executive meeting. I spun on my heel and stormed back to the dorm, only then allowing the wetness in my eyes to reach my cheeks.


	3. Of Tutors and Pretty Boy Cologne

**CHAPTER THREE**

 **A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews! To answer some questions… Guest: No, she didn't. Ian kept the secret from Lip, and we'll see how that plays out soon. Arya84: This will take place throughout Season 5 and 6 (most likely). She met Ian back in Season 1. Enjoy the chapter and keep the reviews coming! You guys motivate me. :)**

"What was that about, Rory?" Claire asked me as soon as I had re-entered our room. Her brown eyes peered at me inquisitively, and I plastered on my best smile and shook my head slowly.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to ask the RA if we were allowed to make a few changes to our room." I said with a shrug and busied my hands in rearranging my desk items. "He said no."

"That sucks." Claire pouted, flopping down onto her bed. "On the upside, he's pretty cute, don't you think?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I let out a series of sharp coughs that quickly morphed into a string of weary laughs. Claire arched her brows at me, confusion flashing across her fair features.

"What?" She questioned, her eyes demanding answers.

"It's just that, uh…" I cleared my throat, glancing back at her quickly. "Not my type."

She looked skeptical, but she decided against questioning me further and moved onto discussing our dorm bathrooms. I breathed out a silent sigh of relief.

TWO MONTHS LATER

"So, what's your next step?" I asked the boy in front of me. The soft music of the quaint coffee shop streamed gently through the air as he furrowed his brows in concentration, shifting his focus onto the math problem in front of him. I sat back in my cushioned chair and breathed out a small sigh. We had repeated this type of problem three times already, and he wasn't understanding it yet. I glanced down at the time on my phone, only to find that our tutoring session had already come to an end.

"All right, Lester. Why don't you look over what we reviewed today, and we'll pick up on this problem next week?" He nodded his head quickly, and he too looked relieved to be finished with the session. Lester gathered his things and we exchanged our farewells before he exited the coffee shop. I had just finished collecting my belongings when a voice pulled me away from my thoughts.

"Rory?" I snapped my head up, and my eyes met with two dark green eyes and a blinding smile. Even from our proximity, I could still detect his familiar scent - pretty boy cologne and a subtle touch of marijuana. Meet Emmett Carrington, sole heir to the Carrington fortune, high school football star, subject of Aunt Eloise's adoration, and my ex-boyfriend.

"Hey, Emmett. What are you doing here?" I slipped my bag over my shoulder and got to my feet, my eyes widened in an outright display of shock.

"I transferred from Carnegie Mellon. You know, they have a really great aerospace engineering program here. Plus, they had a chapter of my frat, so it all worked out." He smiled again, showcasing his dimples proudly.

"Wow, that's great." I said, my eyes roving down to check the time on my phone once more. I feigned guilt as I glanced back up at him, making sure that the emotion was clear in my eyes. "Aw, this has been really _great_ , but I've really got to run to meet with my roommate."

"Where to? I can walk you, I don't have anything to do right now." Emmett jumped at the opportunity, and I bit back a slight curse. Nonetheless, I plastered on a smile and accepted his offer with a small nod. He took my bag off of my shoulder - out of pure habit, I suppose - and slung it around his own before walking me out of the coffee shop and into the quad.

The quad was blossoming with the signs of autumn - just as it should, right before Halloween. The leaves were fluttering gracefully to the ground and were an assortment of colors, and students were thriving in the brisk autumn air - complete with flannels, beanies, and sweatshirts. I was so caught up in the scenes that unfolded in front of me that I hadn't even realized that Emmett had continued talking, and that he was awaiting my answer for a question that he had asked. Not willing to expose myself for being oblivious to his answer, I decided to go with as general an answer as I could conjure, with the hopes that it would work.

"Yeah, of course." I said as nonchalantly as I could muster, keeping my pace brisk. His face widened back into that smile again.

"Awesome. It's tomorrow night, at the Alpha Phi Alpha house on Washington. Costumes are highly encouraged. But I'm sure you won't have trouble with that." He said, and I could've sworn that he snuck me a wink. "Oh, also - don't bring any guys with you. There'll be plenty of APA bros in there already - finest men on campus." I resisted the urge to snort at his comment.

"This is me." I cleared my throat as we came to a stop in front of my dorm, and he nodded quickly and handed my bag back to me. I slung it back around my shoulder and smiled politely. "It was nice seeing you again, Emmett. I'm glad that we're still friends."

"Yeah, me too." He replied, and before I could stand in awkward silence any longer, I spun on my heel and entered my building.

 _How wonderful. My childhood best friend hates my guts, the student that I'm tutoring is probably going to fail his test and blame it on me, but at least now I get to suffer at a Halloween party at my ex-boyfriend's frat house._

 **A/N: Sorry for the filler chapter, I just thought that it was necessary to show a few of Rory's aspects in this way. Next chapter will have more action (and another appearance from our very own Lip)! Stay tuned. :)**


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